By J. Randal Matheny © 2015
Love is not so strange, no mystery,
It can be seen and touched — identified —
A man can point it out, so we agree —
And one can know as well if love has died.
In this is love for God: not words in passion,
But doing his will, obeying his command
With zeal — not half-hearted nor after a fashion —
They are not hard, nor grievous in their demand.
I would — and ask — my love for God might last
Eternally, as life in him, and grow
A constant growth, to strive for him so vast,
To gladly approach by sight and boldly know.
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